12 Months in a Year
by rafocy
Summary: 12 weechester drabbles over the course of a year. Better description inside.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: For this story, I'm posting one chapter a month relevant to the date the story took place for instance, today is January 24 and the story is set on Dean's birthday, January 24**__**th**__**. I'm planning on doing a chapter each month for a year based on holidays, birthdays or for months where there are no significant dates, just drabbles. I'm also going to try and do all Weechester drabbles, but we'll see. Read and Review! Thanks!!!!**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

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Chapter 1: Daddy's Car

_Date: January 24, 1987_

"Dean. Wake up Dean. Come on kiddo I don't have all day." Dean groaned as his father shook his shoulder. "Dean come on. Time to get up," John said. Dean grumbled for his father to go away and then pulled the sheets over his head.

"Can I Daddy?" Sam asked, sounding eager. Dean thought he heard something scrape against the floor.

"On the count of three Sammy," John instructed, "One…two…Three!" The sheets were yanked off and Dean sat up gasping and spluttering as Sam dumped a whole bucket of ice water on him.

"You're dead," Dean jumped out of bed and scrambled after Sam who let out a squeal before darting towards the far side of the motel room. John grabbed his oldest son before he could get far and started ruffling his hair with a towel.

"Next time, get up when I tell you to," John chucked as Dean fought against him. Sam was giggling in a corner with the bucket still clutched in one hand, "Now get dressed. I want to get out of here in ten minutes."

"Aw come on dad, it's only nine in the morning," Dean moaned, no longer fighting to get at his little brother, "And it's _my_ birthday, I think I should be the one to decide when its time to go."

"Alright, you can sleep in, but you'll miss the surprise," John said, handing off the towel so he could finish getting his giggly three year old ready to go.

"Surprise?" Dean asked his interest piqued.

"Yeah it was a good one too, but since you don't want to go…" John trailed off.

"No, no. Nine a clock, pu-lease I could get up at six if I wanted to," Dean scoffed.

"Well hurry up then. I want you to get your surprise by noon but first you deserve the breakfast of Kings. It's not every day a kid turns eight," John smiled as he watched Dean scrambling for a fresh set of clothes to put on. Sam, still jittery from the morning's excitement, was dancing around the room as John tried to put shoes on him. "Sam, come here," John called, but Sam only jumped farther away as John got within grabbing distance. "Come on Sammy, just put on your shoes and then we can go."

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Sam giggled. He climbed up onto the bed and started jumping up and down, "Come get me Daddy." Dean grabbed his legs and pulled them out from under him. Sam squealed with exhilaration as he landed on his butt.

"Quit messing around," Dean said, trying to look serious, but failing miserably.

"Deanie's a meanie," Sam sang, trying to kick is legs out of Dean's grip.

"Knock it off Sammy," Dean dragged his little brother forward and Sam let out an ear piercing scream. As Dean let go of Sam's legs to cover his ears, Sam scrambled off the bed and ducked just under John's reaching hands.

"Come on Sam, I wana go," Dean groaned.

"Deanie's a meanie and Daddy's a fatty," Sam sang, skipping around the motel room. John finally managed to corner him and picked him up. Sam started squealing again and tried to squirm out of John's grip.

"Quick Dean grab his shoes," John said, laughing as he struggled to hold onto Sam.

"I don't wanna wear shoes!" Sam screamed, kicking his feet furiously. He almost kicked Dean in the face as the older boy tried to shove Sam's feet into the small shoes. After successfully getting Sam's shoes on, John set him down and grabbed his keys.

"Sam you hold Dean's hand understand me," John said, suddenly very serious, "I don't need you running out in front of traffic." Both boys understood Daddy's "serious" voice and Sam instantly calmed down. He took Dean's hand and the three of them left the motel and headed off to get breakfast.

The breakfast was simple. Dean ate his weight in eggs and Sam picked his meal off of both John and Dean's plates. As Sam was reaching over to grab a slice of toast off John's plate, Dean reached over to snag a piece of bacon, but Sam caught the movement and slapped his brother's hand away.

"Mine!" he said, scooting his plate away from Dean.

"Then quit picking off Dad," Dean said, turning back to his own plate. He poked forlornly at the crumbs on his plate until half a strip of bacon dropped onto his plate. He looked up, but Sam had already turned back to his own plate. "Thanks Sammy," Dean said earnestly, popping the bacon into his mouth. Sam ignored him. Once the boys had finished breakfast they headed off. Dean was practically bouncing in his seat as they drove down the highway. The look of pure ecstasy on his kid's face made John glow with pride.

"Alright now listen to me both of you," John said, as they pulled into the parking lot of an old thrift shop, "I don't want either of you to leave my side. I don't want you going to the bathroom without me got it?" They both nodded solemnly. Their father often used his "serious" voice more than once in a day, but today there seemed to be a little bit of an edge to it. "Sam don't let go of your brother's hand for any reason and Dean…"

"Watch out for Sammy," Dean finished for him.

"Alright," John nodded, "Let's go." Dean was about to ask where they were when Sam yanked him in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Didn't you hear Dad?" Dean said sharply as Sam bent down and started poking around in the gravel.

"Look Deanie I gots you a present," Sam said, sounding very pleased with himself. He dropped a smooth rock into the palm of Dean's outstretched hand. The stern look Dean had been giving to his younger brother melted instantly as the gift was dropped into his hand.

"Gee thanks Sammy. I love it," Dean smiled.

"Boys," John called. They ran over to where their father was standing at the door of the shop. "Stay with me," John instructed before opening the door. The shop was completely empty except for them and the few overhead lights were dim. John walked right up to the counter and began speaking to the man behind the counter. Dean was looking around wide eyed at all the stuff on the shelves. Homemade crafts like dream catchers and wooden figurines covered shelf after shelf. Handcrafted chairs and tables were scattered throughout the store and ancient looking china was set up neatly in glass cabinets. "Dean." Dean looked up as his father said his name and a huge grin spread across his face when he saw what was in his hand.

"It's a baby car," Sam giggled.

"It looks just like yours Dad," he said, awestruck as he looked at the small model car.

"I've been saving it for you for a long time now," John smiled, "I was waiting until you were old enough to take care of her. Do you think you're old enough?"

"Yessir," Dean said. Meeting his eyes with such seriousness that John almost burst out laughing.

"You'll keep her real nice?" he said, putting on a straight face that wasn't quite as good as his son's.

"Sure will," Dean nodded.

"And you won't break it," John continued.

"I won't break it," Dean promised.

"Then I think you're ready," John bent down to hand off the car and Dean took it gently out of his hands. For a long time he simply stood there and started down at the perfect replica of his father's car. He'd dreamed of driving the impala himself one day and now he had one of his own.

"Looky," Sam reached his hand into Dean's jacket pocket and pulled out the rock he'd given him. He then slipped the rock into the car through the window. "Now my present's driving Daddy's present," he said, pointing to the rock.

"Sure is Sammy," Dean grinned. The three of them went back to the car with Dean carrying his car as if it were about to spontaneously combust. This would one day become one of his favorite memories. Later he'd hidden the car in the glove compartment of the Impala and years later after an accident involving a semi, Dean had reached into the twisted chunk of metal that had been his father's car having no real hope that his model car had survived, but as he forced his way into the glove compartment, he found the car untouched and intact. He'd hidden it in his bag until the Impala was back up and running and had then replaced it in the glove compartment where it stayed forever with a little piece of gravel sitting in the front seat.

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Thanks for reading and please review! Next chapter to be posted on February 14

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and put my story on alert/favorites lists!!!**

**Squeezy7, supernaturalfan13, ****Elric2007, ****angelsgirl116, impalalover, Kickapoo, samgirl19**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

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Chapter 2: With Much Love

_Date: February 14, 1994_

Sam sank down lower in his chair as the teacher, Mrs. Bakerman began handing out valentines. He was half tempted to yank his shoebox off his desk and tell everyone he didn't deserve any, but instead he left it on his desk and let the guilt eat him from the inside out. His face glowed bright red as the first red and pink card slipped through the slit in the lid of the box. They had arrived in Jackson, Missouri only two days before Valentines day and although John had finally caved and bought Sam a cheap set of valentines to hand out in class, Sam had left them sitting on the table at their motel.

"Alright everyone," Mrs. Bakerman said as she placed the last card in the last box, "Now I want you all to get your valentines and put them in everyone's boxes." There was a rustling of paper and plastic as the kids gathered their bags full of valentines. Sam looked around helplessly. If only he'd remembered to grab the bag that was sitting on the table. He could picture it even now. The little cards with "Happy Valentines Day" printed in large red letters on the front and a tootsie roll taped to the back. "Sam? Aren't you going to get out your Valentines?" the teacher asked kindly. Sam looked up miserably and was about to open his mouth to answer when the classroom door burst open.

"Sam!" Sam turned around to see Dean striding quickly towards him holding a worn out looking grocery bag.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class young man?" Mrs. Bakerman scolded.

"Out early sweetheart," Dean winked as he handed Sam the bag.

"Back to class or I'm calling your parents," Mrs. Bakerman pointed to the door.

"Alright, alright, no need for threats," Dean said, putting his hands up in surrender while backing towards the door. By this point the class was giggling, but Sam wasn't paying attention to his brother any more. He was looking down at his valentines. Last night and probably this morning they had all just been simple generic cards with a piece of candy on the back, but now they each had a personalized note scribbled on them. For the boys some of the comments were "You rule dude" or "Rock on!" and for the girls "what's new sweetheart" and "hey beautiful" and underneath Dean's scrawl was _from Sam Winchester _written in his own handwriting_._

"Sam?" Sam couldn't meet the teacher's eyes. Instead he slowly rose to his feet and began passing out the cards. He hoped no one would take the cards seriously and made a mental note to confront Dean after school. Everyone quickly handed out their cards and raced back to their seats so they could pull out all the candy. Sam froze as he was about to drop the last card in. Stephanie Lynn was the prettiest girl in the class and Sam had told his older brother in confidence that he thought she was pretty. Most of the comments Dean had written on Sam's cards had been harmless if not a little flirty, but on Stephanie's he'd written _"With much love."_ What would she think when she read this? Would she laugh at him? Would he be able to explain that it wasn't him who had written it? Fearing the worst, he dropped the card in and went back to his seat as the other children began digging through their boxes. Sam tried desperately to focus on the valentines he had received, but his gaze kept drifted to Stephanie so he could see what her reaction was. All too slowly the final bell rang and the class was dismissed. Sam was out of the room before anyone else even stood to leave.

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"Come on," Sam mumbled. He was pacing in front of the tree he was supposed to meet Dean at. He'd been standing here for over twenty minutes now and still Dean hadn't arrived.

"Hey Sam!" Sam felt his stomach drop as he watched Stephanie walk towards him.

"Hi, Stephanie," he said, his gaze dropping to the ground as she stopped in front of him.

"I got your valentine," she said. Sam gulped, but didn't say anything. "I thought it was really sweet." He looked up sharply to make sure she wasn't just playing with him, but she looked sincere. "I talked to all my friends and they said I was the only one who got that written on my card." Before he could say anything she kissed him on the cheek and then walked away, waving good bye over her shoulder. Sam waved back dazedly.

"Ata boy Sammy," Dean said, slapping him on the shoulder. This snapped Sam out of his stupor and he turned on his older brother.

"Don't ever do that again," he growled.

"What?" Dean asked, feigning hurt, "You should be thanking me. I got you your first kiss." Sam rolled his eyes and the two brothers started home.

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Thanks again for reviews and thanks for reading. Please Review! Next chapter posted on March 17**th****. **


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Ok, next chapter, no heads up. Thanks for reading and reviewing!!!!_

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Chapter 3: Must Wear Green

"Why do you pinch people if they don't wear green?" Sam asked, while he idly flipped through a magazine.

"Beats me," Dean shrugged, flipping through what little channels were available at the crappy motel room.

"Would you pinch me if I didn't wear green?" Sam asked, looking up momentarily.

"You bet," Dean said absently, not really paying attention.

"Well I won't pinch you," Sam muttered, returning his attention to his reading. The boys had been by themselves for over a week now. Spring break had just begun and now it was March 17th. Sam was currently wearing a green t-shirt, which he had picked out the day before, but Dean was not celebrating the holiday considering he was to be cooped up in the room al day. No one would know or care if he wore green, so he hadn't bothered. John had promised to be back some time that week, but neither boy had high hopes. Suddenly there was a loud tap on the window. They both looked up sharply, but didn't see anything. Dean got up from his chair slowly and walked towards the window. It was probably a teenager, or perhaps one of Dean's "friends" playing a practical joke. Dean grinned at the thought of grabbing the sawed off shotgun to scare the kid away. He slowly leaned up towards the window, but there was no one there. "What was it?" Sam asked, suddenly right behind his older brother. Dean jumped a little, but then quickly tried to disguise the movement as a shrug.

"Nothing I guess," Dean said, glancing out the window one more time, but still seeing nothing.

"Can we go outside?" Sam whined.

"You heard Dad. We have to stay in until he gets back," Dean said starting back towards his chair. He paused halfway there, glanced over at the soap opera playing on the TV and then looked longingly towards the front door. "Well…" one look at Sam's puppy dog eyes and he caved completely. "I guess a few minutes wouldn't hurt." Sam grinned and flung open the door before Dean could take a step towards him. "Sam, wait!" Dean took off after the eight year old and found the boy playing with something on the ground. "You're supposed to stay with me," Dean scolded.

"Look," Sam stood and stepped aside. Standing in front of him was a garden gnome, decked out in St. Patrick's Day spirit. It had a red beard and hair along with a green top hat, coat and pants and the black shoes with the gold buckles.

"Don't touch that," Dean said wearily, "You don't know where it's been." He'd been raised not to trust things when he didn't know where it'd come from. Sam shrugged and left the gnome where he found it and continued across the parking lot. Dean followed close behind, glancing over his shoulder one last time.

The boys made it to the park a few minutes later. There were several children there, all wearing something green. Sam charged straight for the jungle gym and immediately found a couple kids from school to play with. Dean leaned casually up against a light pole, too cool to be playing with the little kids. He watched Sam playing without a care and couldn't help but smile. His good mood dwindled somewhat when he saw another of the green gnomes sitting on one of the benches across the park. Its eyes seemed to be boring into him and he couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. He tried to convince himself that it was just a coincidence, that it was just some weird small town tradition, but he couldn't shake that suspicious feeling in his gut.

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It was getting dark by the time they headed back to the motel. Sam was exhausted, but elated from the long day. As they were walking, Dean became more and more uneasy as he noticed several more leprechaun gnomes on their way home. It had gotten beyond a weird town tradition and gone right into being just plain creepy. They were five or six on every lawn, one on every porch, and at least two or three around every lamp post. Sam seemed completely oblivious to the oddity and walked calmly by Dean's side. Back at the motel Sam picked up his magazine from where he'd dropped it and Dean went back to the TV, which was still on. They'd barely gotten settled when there was another loud tapping on the window. Already on edge from the strange decorations, Dean grabbed the shotgun from where it was propped up against the wall and walked towards the window. Before he actually got to the window however, something small and green crashed through it, sending shards of shattered glass to litter the floor. The little thing was just a blur as it raced around the room. Dean was about to aim and shoot when a second blur came in through the window, then a third and a fourth until there were too many to count.

"Sam get in the closet now!" Dean shouted. Sam did as he was told, leaving Dean to fend of the tiny intruders.

"You're not wearing green," an accusing voice said. Dean looked down at his feet and saw one of the garden gnomes, only this one was alive.

"No green. No green. No green." hundreds of voices chanted.

"No green," the first gnome growled, then suddenly they were pinching him.

"Dean!" Sam peaked out from the closet.

"Get back!" Dean ordered. Sam ignored the command and charged towards the bed. Dean was backed into a corner with the leprechauns still pinching him.

"Dean, catch!" Dean looked up just as a pair of green socks came flying his way. "Put 'em on!" Dean kicked off his shoes and socks and pulled on the cheesy Saint Patrick's Day socks. The pinching stopped immedietly as the leprechauns all took in his green clad feet.

"Hmph. See that you don't forget next year," a leprechaun warned. They all turned at the same time and leapt back through the window.

"I think I'm going to wear green everyday now," Sam commented as the last of them left the room.

"Yeah," Dean panted, "Me too."

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So sorry this is so short, but I went on vacation, left my flash drive at home and had to completely rewrite the chapter. So anyway, thanks for the reviews! Please leave more, I really appreciate them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright so I finally wrote an April chapter. I realize its May and the second week of May to make things worse, but this just kind of popped into my head a few days ago. Enjoy and reviews are always welcome. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

Chapter 4: The Master Plan

_April 1, 1996_

"Hey Dean. I just thought of a way to get you back," Sam said walking into their bedroom at Bobby Singer's. It had taken him a while, but he'd finally come up with the master plan to get his brother back. Earlier that day, Dean had somehow convinced Sam that his fifth period teacher was possessed and the period had ended with a stern conversation from the principal about how it wasn't nice to throw salt at people.

"Yeah, how's that?" Dean smirked. He felt a little uneasy looking at Sammy's Cheshire grin, but felt confident that whatever the thirteen year old had thought of would never trump the prank he had pulled that afternoon.

"I found this under your pillow," Sam pulled pink and white flowered underwear out from behind his back, his grin growing even wider. Dean's face paled slightly, but he somehow managed to keep his game face on.

"So what? You're going to tell Bobby?" he asked, his voice never giving away how nervous that made him.

"I could," Sam shrugged, "Or you could put it on."

"No freaking way," Dean growled, dropping the 'who cares' façade.

"Then I guess I'll have to tell Uncle Bobby you've been sneaking girls into the house," Sam taunted.

"Go ahead," Dean shrugged, "I'm sure he already knows." He turned back to the magazine he had been reading.

"I bet he doesn't know that you lost his favorite shotgun out in the junk yard." Dean looked up sharply. Bobby would be pissed if he found out about that. For the time being he thought the items in question had been misplaced, but Dean wasn't really sure how long that would last.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Hey Uncle Bobby!" Sam shouted, backing out of the room. Dean leapt out of his chair and yanked Sam back into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Alright, alright," he hissed, but if you so much as giggle I'll knock you so hard you'll be out cold for weeks," Dean threatened. Sam nodded, barely keeping his grin in check. Dean took a steadying breath and then slowly stripped down to his boxers. "Turn around," he ordered. Sam obliged and turned his back, trying to get his face neutral so he would ruin his own plan. "There, ya happy?" Unable to control his facial expressions any more, Sam bolted past his brother and out of the room without hardly looking at him. He really had no desire to see his brother in girl's underwear, but it was all part of the plan.

"Uncle Bobby, do you remember that shot gun you couldn't find!" he shouted.

"Damn it," Dean swore and started to go after him, but stopped in the doorway when he remembered what he was wearing. He dove back into the room grabbed his jeans and pulled them on as he was running towards the stairs.

"Yeah, I remember," Bobby was saying from the kitchen.

"I found it yesterday and put it back in the closet," Sam said, sounding out of breath.

"Really where was it?" Bobby asked.

"Under the porch. I was doing a little practice shooting, you know shooting at rats and such, but I saw you coming and I stashed it there so you wouldn't see I had it," Sam explained, "Sorry."

"I'm glad you told me, but next time don't touch stuff that don't belong to you," Bobby said sternly.

"Yes sir," Sam nodded.

"You found it _yesterday_?" Dean asked, coming into the room. His voice was calm, but there was fire in his eyes. Sam turned around, grinning.

"Yesterday morning," he said.

"You're dead," Dean said, still in that all too calm voice. Sam sprinted out the back door with Dean hot on his heels. The two boys raced out into the yard and Sam got halfway to the street before his brother caught up, grabbed him from behind and started tickling him. "Found it yesterday huh?"

"Dean…stop…I can't…breath," Sam choked out between the giggles.

"Yeah well feel lucky that's the only thing you can't do," Dean teased.

"Dean?" He looked up and grinned.

"Hey Jackie. You remember Sam don't you?" Dean said, pausing in his tickling so Sam could catch his breath.

"Yeah, hey Sammy," Jackie smiled, although she looked down at Sam when she said this, her focus was on her shirtless boyfriend.

"Hey Jackie," Sam grinned back.

"Alright get out of here," Dean ordered, letting him go and pushing him slightly.

"I totally got you back," Sam smirked as he backed away.

"Yeah well payback's a bitch," Dean called after him.

"Uh, Dean? Is that my underwear?" Jackie asked uncertainly as she saw a strip of pink and white flowered underwear just above the waist of his jeans.

"Uh, well…see I…I can explain," Dean struggled.

"Didn't quite get your laundry done this week?" Jackie asked putting her hands on her hips. While Dean spluttered out an answer, Sam continued on his way towards the rusted cars, smirking the whole time. "_Yup. Best April Fool's Day prank ever."_ he thought smugly.

**. Thanks for reading, again sorry this is out of order, but it's the best I could do. Please review! Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, April was crazy. Sorry I didn't get a chapter up last month I just didn't have the time, but here's May. Enjoy!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

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Chapter 4: Promises, Promises

"Sam get up."

"What?" he asked groggily, looking up at Dean.

"Come on, lets go," Dean whispered, gesturing for his brother to follow.

"Ok," Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes. The room was still dark, but with the curtains drawn it was hard to tell what time it was. He squinted at his watch in the dark and looked incredulously at the time. Dean had disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, but had now come back out. "Dean, it's four in the morning."

"So?"

"So, you never get up before eight. What's the big deal?" Sam asked. The curiosity was barely enough to keep him from collapsing back against the bed.

"I want to show you something," Dean grinned, "Hurry up." Sighing, Sam got out of bed and dressed, while still keeping a weary eye on Dean who was loading a few things into a plastic bag.

"What about Dad?" Sam asked, as they were leaving the room.

"Forget about Dad. This is between you and me," Dean said before quietly closing the door behind them. Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He climbed into the passenger's seat as Dean started the impala.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Dean grinned. Sam let his head thump back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He was vaguely aware that he had fallen asleep, but Dean shaking his shoulder came all too soon. "Rise and shine." Sam grudgingly opened his eyes and glared at his brother.

"Dean why are we…" he paused as he looked at where they had stopped, "in the middle of a field?" They were so far out that he couldn't even see the road any more.

"You'll see," Dean got out and started walking away from the car. Sam quickly followed him, but they didn't go far before stopping again. "I buried it so you have to dig it up," Dean said, handing Sam a shovel.

"Buried what?"

"Oh come on Sam, appreciate the thrill of surprise without worrying about whether it's going to bite you in the ass or not," Dean said, but Sam could still see the amusement in his eyes.

"Where do I dig?" he asked tiredly.

"Surely you've heard of X marks the spot," Dean said, pointing. Sam looked down and saw an X made out of rocks right at his feet.

"You sure went through a lot of trouble for this," Sam commented as he moved the rocks out of the way.

"It's your birthday. I had to make it special somehow," Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, it's _my_ birthday, which means _you_ should be the one doing all the hard labor," Sam joked, as he plunged the shovel into the ground.

"Not so little brother. Manual labor is the best thing for a kid your age," Dean said, sounding ridiculously like Sam's most recent middle school principal. Grinning, Sam continued to dig until his shovel scraped against something hard. He reached into the shallow hole and pulled out a large rock.

"You dragged me all the way out here to dig up a rock?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Try looking under the rock Sammy," Dean shook his head. Sam reached back into the hole and frowned as he pulled out a Ritz cracker box. He looked back up at Dean. "Open it," Dean prompted, saying the words slowly as if trying to explain something complicated to a small child. Sam snorted and shook his head before tossing the rock to the ground and opening the tattered old box. He tilted the box and three things fell into his palm. One was an old piece of notebook paper with a note scribbled in pencil. The second was an old hot wheels car that had been Dean's favorite when he was little and the last was a silver and gold toy compass that Bobby had given Sam for his fourth birthday.

"I'd thought I lost this," he grinned, looking down at the toy.

"You buried it down there exactly six years ago today," Dean said, sitting down on the hood of the impala.

"Whoever opens this box before Sam turns fifteen will die a slow and painful death by Dean," Sam read off the faded piece of notebook paper. He looked up at Dean curiously.

"When you were six your kindergarten teacher talked about time capsules," Dean explained, "You were upset that we wouldn't be here for you to put something in the one at school so we made our own."

"I kind of remember it," Sam nodded, "So let's have it."

"Have what?" Den asked confused.

"Your note says slow and painful death to whoever opens this box before I turn fifteen," Sam pointed out, "I'm only twelve."

"Well it's your birthday I'll give you a break," Dean grinned.

"So what was in the bag?" Sam asked, suddenly remembering the bag Dean had tossed into the backseat.

"Oh right," Dean reached into the back seat and pulled out the bag, "This one's from me and this one's from Dad." He handed Sam two small boxes.

"Shouldn't Dad be giving me this one?" Sam asked, holding up the appropriate box. Dean's gaze dropped to his feet for a split second, but it was all Sam needed. "Let me guess. Dad doesn't know he bought it."

"He didn't forget," Dean said defensively.

"Right," Sam opened the one Dean had claimed and smiled as he opened it. Inside was a silver watch. "Thanks Dean." He slid it onto his wrist and looked at it a moment before slowly turning to the other gift.

"It really is from Dad," Dean said, as Sam just stared down at the package.

"Then I'll wait to open it."

"I'm assuming alright? I don't know if he got you anything or not, but can you try not to pick a fight today?" Dean asked, "I know Dad's gonna try." Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah alright," he agreed, "But I'm still waiting. That way we can at least pretend." They were quite for a moment. "You know, I don't even care if he got anything or if he forgot it was my birthday. It's not a big deal. I just want to spend one day where he's not running off to his job."

"I think that can be arranged," Dean grinned.

"What's that look for?" Sam asked. He felt an unusual excitement start to build inside him as he interpreted Dean's expression.

"We should get back before Dad sends the cops after us," Dean said, ignoring Sam's question. The ride back was longer than Sam had originally thought and Dean refused to say anything the entire way. By the time they got back it was eight o'clock and the sun was shining brightly. Dean's grin had grown wider the closer they'd gotten to the motel. As Dean shut off the car, he grabbed Sam's arm right before he got out.

"What?" Sam asked, as he settled back into the seat.

"Twelve Sammy," Dean grinned, then got out of the car. Sam got out of the car, but almost ran into Dean who was frozen in the doorway to the motel.

"What's going on?" Sam pushed around his brother and saw John packing everything up.

"There's another job a few towns over," John said, not even bothering to look up, "We need to move if we're going to get there in time."

"Dad you promised," Dean said indignantly. John looked up and glanced between his two sons. Dean looked furious, while Sam looked resigned.

"I'm sorry Sam," he said after a moment, then resumed his packing.

"I understand Dad," Sam said softly. He looked down at the unopened present in his hand, "Thanks for this." He lifted the package momentarily. John's gaze flickered to Dean for a split second and then nodded.

"Let's go," John moved between his boys and went to the car.

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The three Winchesters were silent the entire five hour drive. John hadn't bothered to give either of them any information as to where they were going. Dean sat in the front seat seething, while Sam sat quietly in the back seat, looking down at the box that was supposedly from Dad. He still hadn't opened it and based on how the day was going already he didn't really want to. He'd asked for one thing that was obviously too complicated for John to understand. They continued to not speak even as they pulled up the gravel driveway to Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard. Assuming there were here to pick up supplies, Sam got out of the car without a word. John and Dean were both headed to the house and Sam frowned as he saw a strange spring in his brother's step considering how pissed he was. They were far enough in front of Sam that the screen door had time to shut after them before Sam reached it. As he opened the door, a chorus of "Surprise!" greeted him.

"What is all this?" Sam asked, grinning as he looked from familiar face to familiar face. Bobby, Pastor Jim a few other hunters that they had frequently had contact with and of course his brother and father were all smiling broadly at him.

"This day is all about you son," John said, stepping up to pat his son on the back, "I couldn't forget something as special as your birthday."

"Thanks Dad," Sam said earnestly. Later when he was alone, he opened the present that was supposedly from his dad. Inside was a small pocket knife with the letters SC carved into the side. There was also a note written in his father's familiar scrawl.

_Happy Birthday Sam. I know all you really wanted was just to be like everyone else out there, and I tried to do that for you today. This knife was your grandfather's on your mother's side. You're shaping up to be one hell of a hunter and I hope someday you will be able to save lives without me. You're a strong boy Sam and despite how much we've been through I hope you don't give up on this family. We're not perfect, but we have each other's best interests at heart. Take care of that knife, it will serve you well. _

_Dad_

Sam folded the note up and put it in his pocket. Years later, after John made his deal to save Dean, Sam set the note into the fire and silently thanked his father for everything, especially the one birthday that didn't involve monsters.

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****.**** Please review. THANKS!!!!**

Again, sorry about last month. Hope you enjoyed

**RAFOCY**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Um…enjoy!**

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Chapter 6: Macaroni and Old Trucks

John walked slowly up to the motel room, battered and exhausted. That poltergeist had given him one hell of a fight and in the end he'd had to settle on _hoping_ the damn bastard was gone. He'd left a nine year old Dean at the motel alone with a five year old Sammy over night. He'd only planned on being gone a few hours, which is why he hadn't dropped them off at Bobby's. He had barely kept his eyes open on the drive home and at the moment all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed and sleep for the next day and a half. As he reached out for the door handle he could hear hushed little voices inside and then suddenly the door swung open and shut within the blink of an eye, or at least for as long as it took John Winchester to blink his eyes, which happened to be a lot longer than normal. He looked down at Dean who was standing protectively in front of the door. At first they just stared at each other. John, so tired that he could hardly comprehend how his oldest had gotten in and out of the room so fast, and Dean, looking nervous and a little bit like he was trying to hide something that he shouldn't have been doing. Deciding that he couldn't come up with a comprehensive sentence, John reached over his son for the door handle.

"No!" Dean swatted his hand away.

"What'd ya mean no?" John snapped.

"Uh…Sammy's in there," Dean said.

"Where else would he be?"

"I mean, he's in there sleeping," Dean explained.

"I just heard you two talkin' in there," John pointed out.

"I was…reading him a bedtime story," Dean answered.

"At nine in the mornin'?" John asked doubtfully. Instead of answering Dean pressed his back up firmly against the door. "Come on dude I need my sleep." John reached for the door handle again.

"No!" John stumbled slightly as Dean leapt forward and crashed into his legs.

"Damn it Dean, let me go inside," he scooped up his nine year old in his arms and opened the door, despite the young boy's protests. He'd hardly caught a glimpse of the room before Dean's hands covered his eyes and he was forced to stop again. What he had seen though, had triggered something from the bottom of his heart.

"Hurry Sammy!" Dean shouted.

"But…I can't weach," Sam protested.

"Dad, walk straight ahead and don't peak," Dean instructed. He was so serious that John couldn't help, but smile as he did as he was told. "Sammy give it to Dad." John felt a piece of yarn with tape on the end of it being placed into his hand. "Dad, reach up and stick it to the ceiling." Again John did as he was told. "Now step back aaaand stop!" John stopped and Dean's hands came down. John surveyed the room, his grin growing broader as he took everything in. What he had just taped to the ceiling was a large sign made out of several pieces of notebook paper glued together that read in big blue marker letters HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. Scattered across the room were crayon drawings of the three of them done by both boys and sitting in middle of the table was a shoebox wrapped in newspaper. Sammy was standing on the table as he had been attempting to hang the other half of the sign to the ceiling, but was a good four feet from being able to reach. Now he was stretching out his arms to be held and John scooped him up automatically.

"Happy father's day Dad," Dean said grinning.

"Happy daddy day Daddy," Sam said, slinging his arms around his father's neck.

"Thank you boys," John kissed each of them and took another look around the room.

"Daddy! Daddy! Lookie, we made breakfast!" Sam shouted, squirming out of John's grip. The second his feet hit the floor he was running over to the small counter. He picked up a bowl of cereal and carefully carried it over to John.

"It's perfect," John smiled and took the bowl. He set Dean down, who walked calmly over the table, picked up the box and handed it to John.

"Sammy made it in school," Dean explained.

"Dean found the picture," Sam added as John began unwrapping the gift. Inside was a neon green macaroni picture frame with a picture of the three of them at Singer's Salvage yard, leaning up against an old beat up pick up.

"This is really special," John felt his eyes burn from tears pushing to get out. He hugged his boys again. "This has been the best father's day."

"We love you Dad," Dean smiled proudly up at him.

"I love you both too."

Although the macaroni frame was lost somewhere between Langley, Washing ton and Hurly, Mississippi, John held onto the picture and it was the last thing he saw when Azazel traded his soul for Dean's. It was burned with his body and even in hell, that memory was one of the reasons he never gave in.

**HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO ALL THOSE DADS OUT THERE! Please read and review. Thanks :)**


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